There’s this little problem
Well it’s not little but slim
I can’t just speak on a whim
Oh now I’m being dim.
Well not forward, I’d hate to be untoward.
My problem is analysis
To the point of, yes, paralysis
The more fruitless
The more endless
With no hope of definitive, conclusive bliss
When she said bye –
Why didn’t she say good bye?
Was it a shot on the sly?
Or am I guess-who-really-needs-a-hobby guy?
Look! What’s that on the horizon?
A problem that could use some serious surmisin’?
Well, isn’t this surprisin’?
I already made the decision – and it can’t be undone.
So I ask you, please make my decisions life or death,
Or I’ll just think them to death.
I do nerd-engineering stuff so I’ve heard the phrase ‘analysis-paralysis’ a number of times. But I met someone who hadn’t heard that phrase, so in case you haven’t, I just made you that much dorkier.
Also, I really do over-think things I don’t need to quite a bit, so I’m going to hit this topic again for a poem and next time try to make it good.